


like we’re made of starlight

by cybergore



Category: The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Awkward Romance, Awkwardness, Coming Out, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Kissing, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, Romantic Fluff, Stargazing, like just its awkward
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:35:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23766253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cybergore/pseuds/cybergore
Summary: At this distance, if Mal looked, he could probably see the thin speckles of brown in Nikolai’s amber-chip eyes. Most likely, he would be able to see the shadows Nikolai’s long lashes made on his high cheekbones.It was a good thing Mal wasn’t looking.
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Nikolai Lantsov/Mal Oretsev, Zoya Nazyalensky/Genya Safin/Alina Starkov
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	like we’re made of starlight

**Author's Note:**

> i stayed up until 2am writing this.
> 
> the title is actually from a different song but in my opinion this fic’s song is (maybe) summer by brockhampton? i have no idea it’s late at my night my brain is fried
> 
> not betaed obviously wshjsnsj

Fucking nightmares. Again.

The nightmare itself was already starting to fade from Mal’s memory, but he still felt the dark chill of it deep within his bones. Most likely something to do with the volcra—that’s what they usually were, anyway. The creatures and the bad memories that came with them haunted Mal’s subconscious like stubborn rats, refusing to leave an old house.

Mal rose from his cot and slipped his feet into the warm, fur-lined slippers that sat on the ground beside his nighttime accommodations. Courtesy of Nikolai, of course, just like everything else in this place.

Mal frowned to himself, the twinge of irritation he felt when he thought of the prince very much genuine.

He knew that harping on Nikolai in his own head was something that only a miserable, bitter man would do, and something Alina would certainly frown upon. But with the shivery, overexposed feeling of his nightmare clinging to his skin like goosebumps, Mal was happy to take any excuse he could to distract himself from his own subconscious.

Therefore, some harping was in order.

Mal trudged into the hallway, careful not to wake or jostle the sleeping forms of Tolya and Tamar nearby him. As he went, Mal busied himself with listing the many, many things he disliked about Nikolai Lantsov.

_ He’s a bastard, _ Mal thought, before snorting quietly to himself.  _ Literally and figuratively.  _ He felt bad for the low blow afterwards, since Mal was most likely an illegitimate child, too. But he brushed the humbling notion off in favor of mentally bashing Nikolai some more.

_ Full of himself. So fucking conceited, _ Mal stewed.  _ He thinks he’s the Saints’ gift to humanity. The way he was flirting with Alina before… _

Alina was still something of a sore spot for Mal. Even now that he knew she was off-limits—a very threatening talk with Zoya had assured that—Mal still viewed her as his childhood best friend and first love.

Did it sting a little bit that Alina left Mal for the affections of grishas scarred-up Genya Safin and bitchy-to-all-hell Zoya Nazyalensky? …Yes.

Did Mal totally get it? Also yes. Genya and Zoya were two of the most attractive women Mal had ever seen, with the exception of Alina herself, who was beautiful, too.

Besides, he would always be Alina’s friend. Regardless of whether or not she wanted more than that. Still, Mal didn’t appreciate Prince Perfect flirting with her—especially since he didn’t even really want her. Not like Mal had wanted her.

He glowered to himself as he wandered aimlessly around the refurbished Monastery. After awhile, Mal looked up from his shoes and realized that he’d entered the observatory. The polished glass walls revealed a breathtaking view—the pitch black sky, speckled with millions of sparkling stars, dripping down into the ridges of frosty mountains.

Mal paused for a moment, to admire it. As much as he hated Nikolai, he could acknowledge that he did a good job with this observatory. The heated floors were a perk, too, Mal considered as he lowered himself to sit.

He didn’t know how many minutes he spent like that, watching, entranced as the stars twinkled before him on the satiny expanse of sky. While he relaxed, Mal felt the remaining chill of the nightmare dissipating, melting off of him and leaving him calm.

Eventually, Mal stifled a yawn. It occurred to him that he should probably return to his quarters and sleep, if he didn’t want tomorrow to be hell. He rose slowly from the blessedly heated floor, and then—

“Leaving already? I’ve only just arrived,” said that criminally smug, perfect voice. Mal turned, and there stood Nikolai Lantsov, grinning winningly. “And I’ve often been told that the party hasn’t begun until I’ve made an appearance.”

“It’s not a party,” Mal replied gruffly. “And I’ve got to sleep some time, if I expect to wake up tomorrow.”

Nikolai tipped his head at Mal in acknowledgment. “That’s a good point,” he admitted. “What brought you out here in the first place?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Mal lied. No way in hell was he venting to  _ Nikolai fucking Lantsov _ about his nightmares.

“Ah, a fellow insomniac,” Nikolai said, nodding to Mal in a way that Mal assumed was meant to spark camaraderie. For someone who allegedly ‘couldn’t sleep’, Nikolai’s perfectly placed golden locks didn’t look at all like he’d been tossing and turning on them.

“I guess,” Mal shrugged, starting for the exit again.

“Are you in such a hurry that you can’t stay and talk?” Nikolai asked, charming as always.

Mal glared at him. “What is it that you need, your highness?” he gritted out. Nikolai tipped his head back and laughed, clear and strong, at that. It was a…  _ nice _ sound.

Still. Mal didn’t see why everyone was so fucking enamored with him.

“Just some company would be nice,” Nikolai said. Wonder of all wonders, he sat on the floor like Mal had moments prior, and patted the space next to him. “Only for a few minutes. If you wouldn’t mind.”

Mal, despite his hatred for the man distributing them, was in no position to be disobeying royal orders, no matter how veiled. He sighed and sat down near Nikolai.

“What,” Mal asked without inflection. Nikolai turned to him, and they were sitting close together. Too close, really. At this distance, if Mal looked, he could probably see the thin speckles of brown in Nikolai’s amber-chip eyes. Most likely, he would be able to see the shadows Nikolai’s long lashes made on his high cheekbones.

It was a good thing Mal wasn’t looking.

“You interest me, Oretsev,” Nikolai said, the glimmering smile never leaving his face. Mal felt his cheeks heat at the prince’s words.  _ What? _

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” Mal asked gruffly, scrunching his nose at Nikolai.

Nikolai shrugged elegantly. “What motivates you, Oretsev? What’s your drive? What is it behind your eyes that’s forcing you to be the dedicated soldier you’ve proven yourself as?”

_ Fuck this guy and his fancy words. _ And fuck Mal, for thinking his fancy words meant something else. Heaving a sigh, Mal tore his eyes away from the prince and refocused his gaze on the stars in the distance. It was simultaneously a relief and torture, to stop looking into Nikolai’s perfect face.

“Nothing  _ motivates _ me,” Mal growled. “I just keep going. Isn’t that what we’re all doing?”

“You’re right,” Nikolai nodded, his tone surprisingly conceding. Mal had expected him to turn it into a jest, a debate. Saints knew the prince was headstrong enough. “To a certain extent. But to work the way you do—head down, back straight, face empty? There’s something pushing you.”

Mal kept his eyes fixed ahead on the shimmering snowdrifts, and didn’t reply.

After a moment, Nikolai’s voice broke the silence, thoughtful as he said, “It’s her, isn’t it?”

Mal whipped his head sideways to glare at Nikolai. “You don’t know a thing about me and  _ her,” _ he spat.

Nikolai simply looked back at him. The starlit glow coming from their surroundings made Nikolai’s blemish-free skin look even paler, almost shining, and accentuated the sharp, handsome angles of his face. He looked like he’d been carved from marble.  _ Chiseled _ was the word.

“Perhaps so,” Nikolai said slowly, “but I know about her. And I know about Zoya, and Genya.”

Mal turned away and rested his head on his knees, legs already pulled up to his chest. For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then it came out. “She was the first person I’ve ever loved,” Mal whispered. His voice broke halfway through.

When Mal finally blinked hard enough and brought his gaze grudgingly back to Nikolai, he expected to see pity, disgust or even amusement on Prince Perfect’s stupid face. Instead, Nikolai’s expression was sympathetic.

“You grew up together,” he said. “In Keramzin. Yes?”

Mal nodded, mute. He’d probably figured that out from Alina.

“I had a friend, once,” Nikolai continued, folding his hands in his lap. “When I was young. His name was Dominik.”

Mal simply stared at him, willing Nikolai to take his silence as an urge to go on. He did.

“He… was not treated well by the palace,” Nikolai continued.

Mal found the man taking a sudden interest in his hands. They were graceful hands, with prominent knuckles and slender, elegant fingers. A prince’s hands. What made them different, though, from those of a proper prince, were the calluses and miniscule scars that littered the pale skin. Signs of hard work, actual effort that Nikolai had put into his duties.

Mal knew, inside himself, that he did not hate Nikolai as much as he acted like he did. Perhaps he never had.

“At first, I didn’t realize,” Nikolai continued, golden eyes downcast. “But once I found out, I… I did what was in my power to make things better for him.”

Mal nodded, silent still. He couldn’t guess where Nikolai was going with this.

Finally, Nikolai looked away from his twitching fingers and into Mal’s eyes. Mal was almost surprised by the sudden eye contact, but what really shook him was the earnest, haunted look in Nikolai’s eyes. Handsome features aside, didn’t look like a prince. He looked like a man who had been through too much.

“Dominik and I…” Nikolai trailed off. “We were a bit like you and Alina.”

Mal took a moment to digest that.  _ A bit like you and Alina. _ Did Nikolai mean…?

“You were—?” he began to ask, but before he could force the disgruntled question out, Nikolai held a hand up to signal silence. Commanding, as always, but Mal begrudgingly complied.

“He was more than a friend,” Nikolai continued, taking in audible breath, “to me.”

A pause.

“And I’m guessing you don’t mean like a brother…?” Mal pressed awkwardly.

Nikolai shook his head.

“Oh,” Mal breathed out.

Then, another thought occurred to him. “But, what about Alina?”

Nikolai looked past Mal at the stars. “Her, too.”

_ “Oh.” _

Nikolai nodded once. Mal felt everything he had ever thought about the man in front of him rearrange itself slowly inside his head.  _ More than a friend, to me. _

Oh, indeed.

Mal realized what he should do. Turning to Nikolai, he cleared his throat. “Well, um,” he started, trying not to sound too awkward, “Thank you. For telling me, that is.”

Nikolai’s gaze swiveled back to Mal, and Mal felt blood rush to his cheeks at the feeling of being watched by the prince. Saints, he needed to get this under control.

“And you…?” Nikolai trailed off. When Mal didn’t answer, Nikolai’s face nearly went white. “Excuse my intrusion. My intent wasn’t to make you uncomfortable. Er, I’ll—”

High on shock and the strange feeling of being one of the only ones awake late at night, and of course the moonbeams playing across Nikolai’s and his face, Mal was charged with some sort of insanity. The sort of insanity that prompted him to reached forward, grab Nikolai by the jaw, and shove their faces together in a messy, incoherent kiss.

At first, Nikolai made a surprised sort of  _ ‘mmphf’ _ sound, but a half-moment later, he melted into it, leaning forward and bracing himself with his left palm on Mal’s thigh.

When they broke apart, Nikolai’s eyes were slight. Part of his amber irises had been overtaken by dark pupil, though Mal didn’t know whether to blame that on the observatory room’s poor lighting, or the kissing.

“Oh,” Nikolai breathed out.

Mal nodded once. “Yes. That  _ was _ what you meant, right? I wasn’t overstepping, or—?”

Nikolai shook his head rapidly. “Not overstepping at all,” he said quickly, with so much conviction that Mal felt as if he should get to be the smug one for once.

Mal cracked a small smile, though he was sure it was a shaky one. “It’s pretty late, isn’t it, Prince? I think I should be getting to sleep.”

“Wha—oh, you—sleep?” Nikolai asked, looking frazzled.  _ Damn, a single kiss and he’s rendered the prince of Ravka to an incoherent mess? _ That job seemed like it would require more skill than Mal knew he even possessed.

Instead of processing what had just happened—oh fuck, oh Saints, Mal just kissed probably the most attractive man in Ravka, who also happened to be the  _ crown prince _ , what the hell—he opted to try and look composed.

“Yes,” Mal said. He pushed himself off the heated floor with some (cleverly hidden) difficulty. He extended a hand to Nikolai, who reached for it immediately, and pulled himself up with similar shakiness.

“Would you like me to walk you back to your quarters, your highness?” Mal asked, feeling a stupid, sappy grin spread over his face like honey.

Blushing—was he  _ blushing, _ for Saints’ sake?—Nikolai nodded, clearly flustered. “Ah, yes, that would be helpful,” he said.

Nikolai lead Mal through the corridors to his chamber. They made comfortable, though stilted conversation the whole way, filled with stuttering and blushing, and an embarrassing amount of awkward giggles for two military men.

Once they were outside the double doors, Nikolai pausd and turned to Mal. “Oretsev,” he said, “before I horribly misunderstand what’s just happened… why did you kiss me?”

Mal shrugged. “You looked hopeless.” Nikolai paled, and Mal snorted. “Plus, I wanted to.”

“Oh,” Nikolai nodded, looking slightly relieved. “Oh. That’s, er, that’s good.”

“Yes,” Mal said, slightly teasing, “It is. I never could resist a pretty face.”

Alright, Mal was  _ definitely _ not imagining it. Even in the low light, it was apparent that Nikolai  _ was _ blushing.

“Like I said, it’s very late,” Mal continued, taking a step back in the direction of the room where he was staying. “We both should be getting some sleep. Good night, Prince Perfect. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

“Alright,” Nikolai said slowly, fiddling again with his own fingers.

Mal couldn’t resist it—he leaned his arm against a nearby wall and pushed forward, capturing Nikolai’s mouth in a quick kiss. When he pulled back, Nikolai looked even more wrecked than he had after the first one, poor man.

“Good night, your highness,” Mal grinned, waving at Nikolai before making his way back to his guards’ chamber.

Once he collapsed back onto his palet, thankfully managing not to wake anyone else, he pulled his arm over his eyes. Then, Mal had to spend a good ten minutes remembering every single detail about his and Nikolai’s interaction tonight.

Finally he was thoroughly satisfied he’d committed it all to memory, and only then did Mal allow his eyes to slide shut and plunge him into much-needed sleep.

And if instead of violent nightmares, he dreamt of amber-chip eyes framed by feathery lashes and bathed in an ocean of twinkling stars, soft lips pressed against his and an flustered voice uttering,  _ not overstepping at all _ …. Well. That was nobody’s worry but Mal’s.

**Author's Note:**

> why did i write for mal/nikolai which i came up with deadass on the spot? idk
> 
> also it’s my birthday!!! n i abandoned this work after like a day of writing 4 months ago and spontaneously decided to finish it all in one night :’)
> 
> (tumblr @/minyards)


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